


Take a trip into my garden

by Andithiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, As usual when I write, Bisexual Harry Potter, Draco in lingerie, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Really there might be too much feeling for it to count as pwp, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andithiel/pseuds/Andithiel
Summary: Harry has only been dating Draco for about two months, but he’s already obsessed with the git. And he knows that today, Draco has something special planned, something that includes him being dressed in skimpy lingerie.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 243





	Take a trip into my garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amelior8or](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelior8or/gifts).



> Dearest Amelior8or, remember in... I think May, when we were talking about your crazy schedule and how you, when it would slow down, would take the opportunity to read fluffy smut? Well, I got the idea that I wanted to provide you with some. It took me way longer than planned, but I hope you don't mind, and I hope you'll like this. Thank you for being an amazing friend, and also, happy belated birthday (that I recently found out about LOL)! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
> 
> Thank you so much to my lovely betas [Etalice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etalice/pseuds/Etalice) and [Kristinabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinabird/pseuds/Kristinabird) for helping me and encouraging me, I love you so much.
> 
> This is a stand alone sequel to [Of toenail clippings and designer underwear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649871) if anyone wants to know how they got together. [The lingerie Draco is wearing can be seen here.](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-A27RgAkZD/?igshid=r00aikucewek%22)

Harry is running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His muscles are sore and he curses the fact that it’s virtually impossible to apparate into the fourth floor of a Muggle building. The entire day has felt like wading through treacle and he can almost swear that someone hexed the clock in his classroom to go slower. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s been desperate to go home since he arrived at uni this morning. Because he knows that Draco’s waiting for him at home. And he is painfully aware of what Draco is wearing.

This morning when Harry woke up Draco had already left, but there was a tray with breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen: apple juice, porridge with raspberry jam, and two soft boiled eggs with soldiers, along with a note that said 

> “See you when you get home this afternoon,  
>  Draco XX”

And on top of the note lay a single red rose.

Harry knows what that rose is a sign for. Knows that Draco knows what those underwear do to Harry. Knows that they’re, if not the only reason, at least a strong contributor to Harry and Draco finally getting together two months ago. Knows that Draco only uses them for special occasions, which has been at least twice a week since they got together. 

A warm feeling which has nothing to do with the searing pain in his side fills Harry’s chest. It’s still strange to think that he and Draco, despite their shared history, actually ended up here.

He finally reaches their landing and, with trembling fingers and a pounding heart, he turns the door knob.

The flat is quiet, but Draco is usually home at this time, so Harry wastes no time in kicking off his shoes and trotting in. He’s painfully hard, has been for at least half an hour now. Or, if he’s truly honest, all day. It didn’t even help that he had a desperate wank after lunch, because five minutes later he was hard again, only able to think about Draco wearing those pants with the matching top, and he’s been entirely unfit to concentrate on anything any of his teachers or classmates have said to him all day. He was supposed to participate in a group assignment but he had to feign nausea so he could finally go home. Never in a million years would he have thought that he’d be crazy about Draco fucking Malfoy, but here he is, unable to stop thinking about the git and what he has planned to do.

Harry’s known for quite some time that he’s bisexual, but as it turns out, dating in general, and exploring your sexuality in particular, isn’t the easiest to do when you’re extremely famous. He’d had to resort to casual hook ups with men at Muggle bars, which admittedly had helped him find out that he really does enjoy sex with men as well, but left him feeling empty afterwards, craving more, something deeper, more meaningful. But Draco is his first _boyfriend_ and, ironically - considering how they started out in their formative years - Draco has managed to create a safe space for Harry to explore and discover all the new ways to have sex. With patience and intuition he’s guided Harry through some of it, and Harry’s been so eager to try out more with Draco that he’s started to notice that his uni work has been suffering a bit lately.

“Draco?” he says as he enters the living room.

“You’re home early,” Draco answers from the sofa where he’s sitting, long legs crossed in front of him and a book in his hands that covers his crotch. It’s more of a simple statement than a question, but Harry hears the satisfaction, hears that Draco knows Harry skipped class to come here and that it makes him immensely pleased. Instead of his usual white, Draco’s wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt to make Harry wonder what’s underneath, the absolute prick. 

“Come here.” Draco has that smug smile on his face, the one that only a few months ago would have made Harry furious, but now combined with his hooded eyes, makes Harry even crazier with want.

Harry swallows dryly. “Do you have —?”

Draco smirks, uncrossing his legs. “Why don’t you come over here and find out for yourself?”

Harry approaches him silently, feeling Draco’s gaze on him the entire time, knowing by the slight tilt of Draco’s head how delighted he is with the effect he has on Harry. With a sigh, Harry drops to his knees in front of him, letting himself be bracketed by Draco’s thighs and looking up at him in eager expectation.

“Have you been thinking about me today?” Draco says, cocking his head to the side, his smile turning wider, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Have you been thinking about what you want to do to me?” He pushes himself up from the back of the sofa, sliding to sit on the edge of it. “Tell me, Harry,” he murmurs into Harry’s ear, sliding his hands along Harry’s back to let them rest on his arse, pressing it to make Harry rise up so that his cock is level to the sofa. Squeezing lightly, Draco pushes himself closer to Harry, and when his crotch comes into sharp contact with Harry’s aching cock, Harry can’t help but gasp at the sensation, unbelievably turned on. Draco chuckles, a low and guttural sound deep in his throat. “So hard for me, aren’t you, Harry?”

A whimper escapes Harry before he’s able to rein it in, and Draco lets out a self satisfied huff, his breath hot against Harry’s neck as he presses himself even closer, grinding his hips slightly. Harry’s fingers are trembling as he starts unbuttoning Draco’s shirt, the pale skin warm and soft underneath the luxurious fabric. Draco doesn’t do anything to aid him, he just keeps running his hands slowly up and down Harry’s back, sliding them under the waistline of his trousers to squeeze his arse again, making Harry moan embarrassingly loudly. Draco chuckles before pulling Harry’s earlobe into his mouth, and suddenly it’s all too much: the warmth of Draco’s body, his crotch coming into contact with Harry’s, the alluring scent of him filling Harry’s nostrils. All it takes is for Draco’s tongue to tickle the shell of Harry’s ear, and without being able to help it, having been at the edge for so long, Harry comes in his pants like a bloody teenager.

Draco stills, and Harry wishes the earth would swallow him whole right now. The seconds tick by slowly as Draco draws back a fraction to look at Harry.

“Did… Did you just —?” 

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes,” he answers, mortified beyond belief, but Draco exhales shakily, pressing himself closer to Harry, his hands resuming their task of running along his back. 

“Oh fuck me, that’s so hot,” he whispers, and then his lips are on Harry’s, nipping, biting, coaxing them open to slip his tongue inside Harry’s mouth, knocking Harry’s glasses ascew, and Harry’s spent cock twitches at the intensity with which Draco kisses him, his hand in Harry’s hair and his chest pressed flush against Harry’s.

“Did you think about me today, Harry?” Draco pants in between kisses. “Did you think about me in these knickers and what you want to do with me?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers, eyes still closed, while Draco starts to tug at his clothes, yanking his shirt up to caress Harry’s stomach up to his chest.

“Did you get that aroused just by thinking of me?”

“Yes,” Harry whimpers as Draco flicks his thumb over his nipple and then pinches it lightly. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco says on an exhale, capturing Harry’s lips again, pressing himself even closer. “Tell me, tell me what you want to do with me. You know I want to give you everything. Anything you want.”

“What, now?” Harry says, nonplussed. “But I… I just —”

He cuts himself off as Draco’s cleaning charm washes over him, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. It makes him lean back to look at Draco properly, makes him see that Draco has collected himself, even if his breathing is a little quicker and shallower, his mask of smug certainty is once again in place. He smiles crookedly at Harry.

“I would say this gives us the opportunity to take things slow, don’t you think?”

Harry’s at a loss for words, all he can do is nod, which brings out that glint in Draco’s eyes. 

“Tell me what you’ve been imagining doing with these knickers today.” Draco leans in towards Harry’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin just behind it. “Do you want to slip them down before you eat me out? Or do you want them around my thighs while you slide your cock between my buttocks?”

“I…” Harry halts, closing his eyes again. It’s hard for him to state what he wants, to be so open with someone, to ask for something just for his own pleasure. But he’s thought about this a lot lately and he’s more than ready, and during the time they’ve been together Draco hasn’t made him feel anything but safe, seen, taken care of. He swallows.

“I — I want you to wear those while you fuck me.” 

Draco’s breath hitches, it’s almost imperceptible, but Harry notices, oh he notices, and that gives him the courage to continue.

“I want you to lay me on my back and press your cock deep inside me, and I want you to be wearing those while you do it.”

There’s silence for a long while, and Draco’s voice is shaky when he finally speaks.

“Are you sure? I mean, last time —”

“I’m sure,” Harry says, surprised to hear how firm his voice sounds.

The other week they tried it with Harry on his hands and knees, but once Draco had pushed the head of his cock inside, he’d sunk into Harry a bit too quickly and it felt awkward, not at all how Harry had imagined it. But Draco noticed Harry tensing up and withdrew without comment or trying to persuade Harry to keep going, instead replacing his cock with his tongue until Harry was like soft clay in his hands. 

But Harry really wants to know what it feels like to have someone fucking him, to have _Draco_ fucking him, to have his cock sliding into him again and again, and he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“I’m sure,” he repeats, softer this time, closing the distance to let his lips brush over Draco’s temple. “I’m really sure. I want you inside me, Draco.”

Harry notices with satisfaction how Draco tries but fails to suppress a shaky exhale, shivering under Harry'sf palm.

“Undress me,” Draco whispers, grabbing Harry’s wrists and putting his hands on his chest. 

Harry nods, swallowing thickly, and watches his own hands as they slide underneath Draco’s unbuttoned shirt, pulling it apart to reveal the silky white top with ruby red roses on it. He lets out a rush of air at the sight, at Draco’s pale skin still in sharp contrast to the pearly white of the top, his chest heaving with each deliberate breath. Slowly, Harry rubs his hands along Draco’s sides, his thumbs gliding over the fabric of Draco’s lingerie top to brush over his nipples, smiling in delight as they both turn into hardened buds at his ministrations. 

“What’s so fascinating about these?” Draco’s words are laced with amusement, but Harry also hears he’s genuinely curious about the effect they clearly have on him. “Why do you love them so much?”

Harry thinks about it, thinks about how he knows exactly how they feel underneath his fingertips, the silky yet sturdy texture of them, knows with intimate detail how it feels to slide them down over Draco’s arse, letting the elastic catch on his erection. The sensation of ripping them off, with so much force that they almost crack at the seams. Having the fabric trapped between their cocks as they rut frantically together. And one glorious time, Draco allowed him to actually tear them off with his teeth, and Harry made sure to take it slow, to restrain himself so as not to ruin the garment that he appreciates so much, and when they finally came off, Draco was a trembling mess of need and Harry had never been prouder of himself for rendering Draco Malfoy speechless. The memory of it makes him smile.

“Because you look so bloody hot in them. The way they hug your hips and the way they show off your arse. And when you get hard your cock peeks out of them.” He leaves open mouthed kisses along Draco’s jaw and throat while sliding his hands in under the elastic of the top. “And the way they make you look like an innocent angel and a complete slut at the same time makes me want to rip them off you and do filthy things with you,” Harry growls into his ear, and Draco moans, grabbing Harry’s head to bring their mouths together in a sloppy kiss, their tongues sliding together.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco pants wetly, his body pressed tightly to Harry’s. “You’re hard again. You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“It’s only this way with you.” Harry ditches the plan to take things slow and swiftly works Draco’s trousers open to yank them down. Draco seems to be on the same wavelength because he doesn’t object, he even lifts his hips to help Harry in his task. “I’ve even had a wank today already.”

Draco gasps at Harry’s words but tries to hide it with a moan as Harry grabs one of his arse cheeks to sling his leg around Harry’s waist. “Tell me.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day, and I had to leave my friends after lunch to lock myself in one of the toilets so I could relieve the pressure.” The words tumble out of Harry in a rush while he wrestles with Draco’s trousers to get them off as fast as possible. It’s hard to concentrate on the task with Draco’s erection directly in front of him, straining against the flower printed fabric.

“And did it work?” Draco pants, snapping Harry back to reality. His smugness is back, but he also obviously wants to know.

“Only for a while. And then Flora’s dragon necklace reminded me of you, and that got me hard again.”

Draco chuckles complacently and places his index finger under Harry’s chin, tilting his head up. “And then you had to hurry home. To me.”

Harry nods, his eyes locked with Draco’s, hypnotised under his mercurial scrutiny. “I did. And now I’m home and I’m all yours.”

Draco scoots forward, both of his hands grabbing Harry’s hair to press himself as close as he can, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against Harry’s chest.

“Mine,” he growls, but it doesn’t sound possessive, it’s like he needs to repeat it to himself, like he can’t believe it’s really true, that Harry is really his. But Harry is, he hasn’t been this gone for anyone, ever in his life. So when Draco stands them both up and starts backing towards his bedroom, pulling Harry by the scruff of his neck to follow him, he obeys without resistance, his mouth still searching out Draco’s again and again. Draco’s hands are dancing all over his body, tugging at his clothes to remove them on their way. Harry’s shirt catches on his glasses when Draco tries to pull it off, and he removes them and tosses them carelessly to the side.

Then Draco finally pulls away and pushes Harry down onto his bed, and when Harry looks up at him, his breath leaves him in a rush at the sight. Draco’s eyes are a stormy grey, there’s no mistaking his arousal, his want for Harry.

The words _I made him look like that_ fly through Harry’s mind. _I make him feel like this._ The realisation makes him delighted beyond belief.

Noticing Harry’s reverie, Draco’s eyes soften, his features smoothing out. He strokes Harry’s hair gently, his fingers catching on some of the strands, but it feels good, it’s grounding, and Harry leans into his touch as Draco’s hand travels down to cup his cheek.

And then Draco straddles his lap with such force that Harry topples over, his back hitting the firm mattress and Draco hovers over him, nipping, kissing, licking over the entire expanse of his chest, pausing to suck a nipple into his mouth. On a gasp, Harry arches into it and closes his eyes, because if he keeps looking he knows he’s going to come again, and quickly.

“Draco,” he whispers. “Draco, don’t make me wait any longer.”

Draco lifts his head to look at him, his lips swollen and shiny, eyes blown so wide with lust they’re almost black. He scoots up and lets his mouth glide along Harry’s lower lip, fingers grazing over his rapidly beating pulse.

“What, Harry? What do you want?” 

His voice is low and cooing, and Harry relaxes, realising he’s been tensing up. He licks his lips. “Fuck me,” he whispers, sliding a hand into Draco’s silky hair to keep him close.

Draco exhales shakily, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. “You’re still sure then?”

Harry nods, and Draco mirrors his motion, eagerly but cautious.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Harry, you have no idea.”

“I know you will,” Harry says, licking his lips. “And also, I— I want to see you. I want to look at you while you fuck me.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Draco groans, and his cock gives a little twitch against Harry’s hip, noticable through the thin fabric of his designer pants. “Fuck, Harry, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

He pushes himself off of Harry and nudges him to turn around on his front, to which Harry obliges without protest, moaning as Draco doesn’t waste a second to part his arse cheeks and lick a broad stripe along the whole length of his crack. Harry gasps and flings his hand back to grab Draco’s hair, his other hand clutching the sheets as Draco licks again, pausing at his entrance and flicking the tip of his tongue at Harry’s rim. Forehead pressed to the mattress, Harry lets it swallow his moans as Draco continues to lick and suck and leave biting kisses along his hole. Draco tugs at his hips to get him up on all fours, and then slowly works one finger in while he kisses the small of Harry’s back. He’s really excelling at this, Harry fleetingly registers, he’s clearly enjoying how much Harry enjoys it. 

It was only a few weeks ago that Draco introduced him to rimming, but Harry’s been obsessed ever since. The first time they did it, all he could think was “holy shit, Malfoy is kissing my arse!” but soon he’d lost himself in the sensation of Draco’s warm tongue against that sensitive spot, until all it took was for Draco to stroke his cock in a few lazy pulls and Harry came all over himself. And now he’s taking every opportunity available to bury his face between Draco’s glorious arse cheeks or have Draco eat him out. Harry knows he’s not as good as Draco, yet, but he’s planning on getting there.

“You’re doing so good, Harry, just look at you,” Draco murmurs, his breath ghosting over Harry’s sensitive skin.

The praise goes straight to Harry’s cock and he whimpers as Draco continues to quickly but thoroughly work him open with fingers and tongue. It feels so good, Harry is so unbelievably turned on and he starts rocking back to meet Draco as he’s pumping his fingers into him. 

Draco chuckles. “Patience, darling. We’ll get there.”

“Now?” Harry asks, giving his cock a tentative stroke and hissing at the realisation that he’s getting dangerously close already. “Can you — oh _fuck_ — can you, now?”

He notices that Draco has started undulating his hips in small movements against Harry’s thighs, and his voice is breathy when he says “Turn around.”

Harry obliges at once, and when he’s on his back, the sight of Draco makes him gasp. He looks almost wild, hair messy and tousled, cheeks flushed and chest covered in splotches of red. And the look he gives Harry is almost too much to handle, he looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, and Harry has to close his eyes on the pretence that he needs to adjust his position.

“Would you like to do the honours?” Harry looks up at Draco’s words: his thumbs are hooked inside the elastic of his skimpy knickers. They’re barely covering his cock, half of it is peeking out, the glans already exposed and glistening with precome. He regards Harry from under his fringe in mock bashfulness. “Place them where you want them.”

Slowly, Harry pushes his torso up from the bed with his elbows, his gaze locked with Draco’s as he edges closer. Draco’s hands are trembling when Harry lets his fingers rest upon them, an indication of how much Draco’s reining himself in to keep his composure. Harry slides the pads of his thumbs along the waistband, starting just to the side of Draco’s cock, slowly bringing them to his hips, and he has to bite back a smile as goosebumps appear on Draco’s skin. Draco removes his hands to let Harry take control, bringing them up to rake through Harry’s hair instead, his stomach barely moving with his suppressed breathing. Harry leans forward, slowly dragging his bottom lip along the curve of Draco’s pelvic bone, grunting a little as Draco’s grip on his hair tightens, Draco’s nails scraping his scalp. He does it again, but with his tongue this time, licking a slow path over Draco’s skin, dragging his pants down just a little bit with his thumb and bringing the rest of his fingers to rest on Draco’s arse. Draco hisses, yanking Harry’s hair a little roughly, but Harry finds the sting of it quite enjoyable and he opens his mouth wider to do it one more time, but this time, Draco uses the grip in his hair to push him away.

“Harry.” Draco’s voice is firm but kind. “If you really want me to fuck you, you need to stop doing that or I’ll come before I get the chance.”

Thinking that he’s okay with having to wait a while until he’ll get to suck Draco off, Harry drags his gaze from Draco’s twitching cock to his face. “I really want you to fuck me,” he says before he pulls the soft fabric down. Draco’s erection springs free and bumps against his stomach while Harry lodges the elastic just under his balls and his buttocks. “Like this.”

“As you wish,” Draco says, his voice not quite as nonchalant as he’s apparently trying to make it sound. “Lie back, then.”

Harry flops down, the sheets cool against his back. Draco positions himself between his legs, silently studying him, like he’s planning exactly how to take him apart, and Harry can’t wait. Draco reaches his arms out, his fingers grazing the sides of Harry’s arse cheeks, feather light and almost tickling. Then, he trails them along the back of Harry’s thighs, resting them on the backs of his knees, pressing his index and middle fingers up in a silent command. Breath held, Harry obliges, lifting his knees to hook either hand under them, spreading himself open under Draco’s approving gaze, waiting, wanting. But nothing happens, and Harry’s is just about to tell Draco to get on with it when there's that same light touch along the curve of his calves, down to his heels and back up. He looks at Draco and is surprised at the smile he gets.

“Breathe, Harry,” he says gently, and Harry exhales on a rush, realising he’s been holding his breath in anticipation of what is to come. Draco leans forward to stroke the hair out of Harry’s face, his hand lingering warmly on his cheek. “You need to breathe to relax, darling. I’ll take it slow, I promise.”

Harry nods, unable to speak around the lump of affection in his throat, and then he gasps as Draco’s finger, slick with lube, circles his hole.

“Look at you, Harry. So eager. So ready for me,” Draco says as he in quick succession adds a second and then a third finger.

“Yes,” Harry moans, because he is, he’s so ready. “I want to feel you now, Draco.”

“And you will. You will, just— Be patient.”

Harry nods, because he knows Draco will make it so good. He loves Draco being in control, trusts him completely to take care of him like this.

Draco removes his fingers and shifts a bit on the bed, murmuring a lubrication spell, and then Harry feels it; the soft hardness of Draco’s cock nudging at his entrance. Draco’s brows are furrowed in concentration as he’s lining himself up and then slowly pushing himself inside Harry, and Harry hisses at the intrusion, at the sting of it, but somehow it also feels so _good_ , so when Draco looks up at him to gauge his face he just nods to make him continue. Draco’s thighs are quivering from holding himself back as he’s slowly rocking further inside Harry, and it’s something almost unbearably tender about the way Draco takes his time, making sure Harry’s adjusting to him.

Gently, patiently, Draco moves the tiniest bit out to be able to go further in, his hands never stilling in their task to stroke Harry’s thighs to remind him to breathe and to relax. Finally, after what seems like ages, he’s bottoming out, his pubic hairs coarse against Harry’s sensitive skin, and Harry suddenly has the wild thought that if someone had told him, five years ago, that he’d let Draco do this, that he’d _beg_ Malfoy to put his cock in him, he’d brush them off as a crazy person. But it doesn’t feel crazy at all. It feels just right, like they were supposed to end up like this, and he realises that never in a million years would he’d be able to let Draco go, to be indifferent about him.

With a tentative glance at Harry, Draco drags himself out the tiniest bit and drives back in again, and Harry almost loses his mind at how amazing he feels, how inexplicably good it feels to be stretched around Draco’s cock like this. It’s better than any toy he’s ever used, so much softer but rougher at the same time. Draco does it again, a little bit further this time, a little bit faster, and Harry can’t help but let out a moan, which makes Draco smirk in a highly pleased way. Then, he starts fucking Harry, still slow and measured, restrained, and Harry loses himself in the sensation of Draco’s cock sliding in and out of him, of his hands holding onto Harry’s hips to guide his thrusts.

Draco’s looking at himself pumping inside Harry, trembling, and Harry realises he’s still restraining himself to make it easier on Harry, but he doesn’t want him to hold back, and he wants him nearer, so he brings one foot to nudge Draco’s arse.

“Kiss me,” Harry moans, pleads, and Draco’s eyes snap up to his, a silent question.

“Kiss me, Draco,” Harry repeats, his voice needy and begging, and Draco surges forward, missing Harry’s mouth in his haste, and the kiss is sloppy and wet, too much teeth and tongue and they can’t find the rhythm, but Harry doesn’t care, he just wants Draco close. He slides his hands under Draco’s top and whispers “Let go.”

And apparently, that’s all it takes for Draco to actually lose control, to let instinct take over, and with a growl he starts pounding into Harry mercilessly, his cock slamming into him again and again, and Harry wraps his legs around Draco’s hips to free his hands, letting them slide down to Draco’s arse to spur him on, get him in deeper. His head hits the headboard with the force of Draco’s thrusts but he doesn’t care, it’s too good to care about such mundane things, Harry could get a concussion for all he cares, as long as gets to have Draco fuck him like this, with this raw yet tender passion.

Draco pants into his ear, moaning words like “beautiful” and “feel amazing around me” and “ _mine_ ”, and Harry drinks them all in, tries to focus on cataloguing Draco’s movements, the muscles of his back working underneath Harry’s hands as he’s moving inside Harry, his hair falling into Harry’s face, the warm smoothness of his chest against Harry’s, the weight of his body trapping Harry’s cock between them, rubbing it torturously. The air is hot and heavy, the sounds of Draco’s grunts along with the slapping of skin on skin so arousing, and Harry has never felt this good with anyone else, never had this complete trust with anyone, never felt this loved by anyone, even if they haven’t yet got to that point yet where they use that word. 

Then, Draco’s motions turn shorter, faster, more irregular, and Harry knows he’s close. He has to look up at him, it’s such a beautiful thing to see Draco come. Because in every sense of the word, Draco is cutting and sharp, precise like a surgeon’s knife. One well chosen line and a perfectly arched eyebrow have made people at various social events crumble, and have had Harry almost offering his condolences for the loss of their dignity. And here, in private, with just the two of them, Draco is equally as deliberate, measured, every move designed to take Harry higher and higher, something that Harry loves. He loves all the ways Draco knows how to touch him to make him go crazy with want, loves how Draco seems to intuitively know what Harry needs, and when he doesn’t know he asks. But he also loves when Draco loses that control, loses himself in giving and taking pleasure, loves when his pupils go wide with lust, when his movements become erratic and he gives in to instinct.

Bringing his hand up to grab Draco’s hair, Harry uses it to keep him close, to whisper in his ear.

“Come for me, Draco. I want to feel you come inside me.”

Draco gasps and makes a whining noise, pushing himself as far in as he can go, and then Harry feels it, feels the pulsating twitching of Draco’s cock deep inside him, feels every vibration along his length. The sensation is entirely new to him, because he knows what an ejaculation feels like in his hand, or on his skin, or between his buttocks, but it’s so much more intense to feel it _inside_ of him. And to have this intimate moment with Draco, to know that, despite their past, he’s happy that Draco’s the first one to be this close to him. It’s so arousing to Harry that he finds himself hurtling towards his third orgasm for the day. Draco shudders over him, hips jerking in tiny movements and he takes Harry’s cock in his hand, stroking it slowly but firmly.

“Look at you, Harry, look at you taking me this way.”

The words go straight to the very core of Harry, pooling deep in his belly, making him screw his eyes shut so tightly he’s seeing stars, and then he’s coming as well, louder than ever before, while Draco keeps whispering encouragement into his ear, his hand firm on Harry’s cock, slowly milking every drop out of him.

It takes a while for Harry to come down from his rush, to have the world outside of his and Draco’s bodies return to his consciousness. Draco has at some point slid out of him, and he’s lying beside Harry, one leg slung over his hips, his face buried in the crook of Harry’s neck, still panting hotly against his skin. Harry’s arse is sore, and his muscles are aching, but he’s never felt this relaxed in his entire life. He heaves a deep sigh and strokes Draco’s thigh in slow circles, turning his head slightly to be able to draw in Draco’s scent. He’s just about to tell Draco how wonderful he feels when Draco breaks the silence.

“I can’t believe— “ He cuts himself off, pulling in even closer to Harry, and Harry knows it’s out of embarrassment. Regular Draco is the opposite of an open book, always guarded and keen on keeping his feelings a secret. But post orgasmic Draco is always more talkative and free-spoken, and Harry knows that if he’s still flustered it must mean it’s something he’s embarrassed about.

When Draco doesn’t continue he says “What?”, so quietly he almost can’t hear it himself. 

Draco inhales deeply, forcibly relaxing his shoulder. “I just— At school I would never have dared to believe that this could ever happen, I— “ He swallows, his Adam’s apple bumping Harry's shoulder, and then, with a trembling voice, barely above a whisper, Draco says “I wanted you so much back then.”

Harry’s at a loss for words. They haven’t really talked about their past other than what they covered when Ginny and Pansy started dating, but since they got together, Draco’s told Harry enough for him to understand that he fancied Harry, if grudgingly, even when they went to school. He wants to say the same, but it wouldn’t be true because he was too busy hating Draco and then feeling sorry for him, not realising what his constant obsession with Draco was until years later.

“I—”

“You don’t have to say the same, Harry, I know it wasn’t like that for you. I’m just— I’m happy we got here eventually.”

Harry squeezes his hand placed on Draco’s thigh and brushes his lips to Draco’s forehead. “I am too.”

Draco preens, snuggling in closer, and then Harry feels it: the pants are gone.

“Wait, what happened —?” he begins, looking up to see what remains of them lying on the bed beside them.

Draco snickers. “Well, they were too restraining, I couldn’t spread my legs enough to get into the right position, so I spelled them off while you were busy concentrating on breathing and they broke in the process.”

“But— But—” It’s so strange that those knickers could have this effect on him, Harry can’t even voice how the loss of them makes him feel so bereft.

“Don’t worry,” Draco says with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just cast a _Reparo_ on them and we can use that pair for when you want to tear them off roughly.”

“Use _that_ pair…?” Harry asks, confused.

“Oh, did I not mention?” Draco sounds ridiculously smug and if Harry wasn’t so bonelessly spent he’d pinch him. “Since dating you means there is a lot of time for special occasions, I bought some new ones.” He waves his wand and a paper bag with pink tissue paper comes zooming towards them, smacking Harry on the forehead. Draco snickers and pulls out one of the wrapped items, biting his lip as he hands it to Harry. “So, for the next time, would you prefer daisies or sunflowers? I also bought a spare of your favourites just in case, because honestly, the way you go at them I knew it was a matter of time.”

Harry takes the little package but hands it back immediately.

“Surprise me,” he says, flashing Draco a wolfish grin. “I trust your judgement.”

**Author's Note:**

> End notes:  
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are lovely ❤️
> 
> I'm also [on tumblr](https://andithiel.tumblr.com//)! Come say hi!


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